


Mother

by fencingfox



Series: This October Night [4]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fictober 2019, Inktober 2019, Keep Quiet, Kidnapping, Kinktober 2019, Pregnancy, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 06:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencingfox/pseuds/fencingfox
Summary: Few things can bring B'Elanna to Sick Bay. The beds are hard; the Doctor is condescending; the lights are bright. It isn't until she and Tom are abducted by a ship looking for Treasured Ones does she finally see a medic that night.





	Mother

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took so long. I thought I had an idea for this prompt....I ended up hating it and scrapping it. Then, on a walk to brainstorm, I developed this. I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> The names with double i's are pronounced with a syllable for each i. It sounds like ih-IH with stress always on the second i.

* * *

**| "I know you didn’t ask for this." | human shield | keep quiet | freeze |**

* * *

"B'Elanna, this is ridiculous." Tom regards his grimacing wife as he sets his PADD on the coffee table in front of him. She's settled along the couch while he's in the armchair facing her. "I know you didn't ask for this." 

"You're right, Tom," she gestures to her comedically protruding stomach. Now that just isn't fair. If he could carry Miral, he would. "I _didn't_ ask for this." 

"No, you begged." He gets off the armchair and kneels next to her stomach where he can rub little circles. He looks at her pleadingly and gives his voice a sweet tone and higher pitch. "Please, Tom, I want to make a baby with you." She slaps his shoulder and laughs. He smiles back, glad to have lifted her mood some. 

"I didn't sound like that." She's speaking with a smile. 

"Okay fine," he brings the hand to his mouth that isn't rubbing her stomach. He clears his throat for effect with it in a fist in front and then emulates an annoyed, hand-on-her-hip B'Elanna. "Tom, if you don't give me a baby _right now_, by Kahless, I _swear_ I'll make sure you never do." She laughs wholly. Laughing is one of the few times she truly expresses all of herself. The sound warms his heart. 

"Alright, that's pretty close." He takes his hand off his hip and runs it along her arm. 

"How bad are they?" She sighs. 

"Bad." When she catches his look of concern, she continues indignantly. "But I am not letting that _baktag_ of a Doctor near me until I have to." He shrugs. 

"Maybe you have to." He feels physically smaller when she shoots him a look. Gods, he hopes Miral is well-behaved. If looks could kill.... Just then, B'Elanna tenses and swears. 

"Language." That makes her swear again. 

"What for? She's not born yet." 

"Human infants develop their sense of hearing at eighteen weeks." Tom recites from memory. "Klingon infants develop their sense of hearing at sixteen weeks. You're twenty-two weeks now. She can definitely hear you." She frowns as he continues his lecture. "I let _baktag_ slide because it's no worse than saying garbage, but you really ought to be careful." B'Elanna harrumphs. 

"Fine." Leaning over her stomach slightly, she continues. "Miral, if you don't stop hurting Mommy, she'll ground you as soon as you're here." A spark of desire Tom wasn't expecting shoots through his body. He doesn't know why but hearing B'Elanna refer to herself as the mother of their unborn daughter is highly arousing. In response, B'Elanna grimaces again. Apparently their daughter won't be well-behaved even if it's a little unfair to blame her for the Braxton Hicks contractions B'Elanna's suffering from. As far as Tom knows, they're how the mother prepares for childbirth. "_Hu'tegh_." Tom glares, a poor likeness of B'Elanna's, at his wife. Looks like Miral will be just as foul-mouthed as her mother. "Samantha lied. These are worse than menstrual cramps." 

"Menstrual cramps?" He stops rubbing her stomach momentarily. "Do you want me to get you your hot bottle?" She looks at him with surprise. 

"Yes, that'd be nice. But come here first so I can thank you properly." Tom smiles as he leans in to kiss his wife. The kiss is soft and sweet. B'Elanna's pregnancy makes her very affectionate. Their lovemaking as of late has been slow and sensual, partly because he doesn't want to hurt either of them and partly because that seems to be what B'Elanna wants. His mind wanders to whether sex helps with Braxton Hicks contractions like it does for menstrual cramps. He'll suggest it later. That thought kicks him into gear. He breaks away from the kiss and saunters over to the bathroom where the water bottle is stored empty under the sink. He digs it out, fills it, and tosses it into the microwave before presenting it wrapped in a towel to B'Elanna. She settles it high over her stomach and lays back on the couch with a sigh. "Mmm. Thanks Tom." 

He pulls a pillow from his armchair and settles at her side when her eyes close. He continues rubbing her lower stomach with one hand. Tom is struck by how right this feels. Even if they could go into you-know-what at any moment—he won't think it because then the klaxons will go off—having a baby with B'Elanna just feels _right_. He kisses her stomach a few times. She giggles. That is also new; she never used to giggle. He sits back to watch the fabric of her nightgown shift over her stomach and under his hand. She stiffens under his hand and gasps. Suddenly he feels panicked. Did he hurt her? Was she going into early labor? The possibilities are endless and none of them are good. 

"She just kicked!" Her eyes are wide and looking directly at him. "Tom, she just kicked!" She hastily moves the water bottle to the floor and places his massaging hand on her upper stomach next to the couch. Tom feels like he'll burst out of his skin with anticipation. Then he feels it. 

"Oh my god." Tom looks at his wife with bared excitement. "She kicked!" B'Elanna squeals and moves to stand. Tom lets her up and stands in front of her. She embraces him. Her stomach keeps them from fully coming together, but Tom's too excited to care. 

"We're gonna be parents!" She pulls away enough to kiss him. They kiss for a long time, trying harder than usual to not clink teeth in their happy daze. When they come up for air, Tom sees them. Fucking aliens with guns. In front of him. Behind his wife and baby. Pointing phasers at B'Elanna's back. He quickly spins them and turns around, arms held out in a loose V at his waist behind him to keep B'Elanna within the area of his body. He'll gladly take phaser fire if it means B'Elanna has enough time to contact _Voyager_ and get the hell away. The thought of never seeing his daughter tightens his throat so he has difficulty speaking. 

"Let us go." 

"We cannot." The man in the front of their formation speaks with a tight voice. He's about Tom's height. He has short, black hair on his head reminiscent of Chakotay's and sports what looks a bit like a cross between a Bajoran's nose ridges and B'Elanna's forehead ridges. They also have long ear lobes that, as far as Tom can tell, are genetic and not manufactured. He hears B'Elanna try her comm. It answers with static to signal its disconnect with _Voyager_. B'Elanna steps out from behind him. Can't she see he's trying to shield her? 

"Why did you kidnap us?" 

"Your skills are needed, Treasured One." B'Elanna raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. Tom notices she's beginning to shiver. He hadn't noticed it at first because of the guns, but it is colder than _Voyager_. He'll start shivering too soon. He moves to pull B'Elanna into his arms but freezes when he catches the movement of phasers. 

"She's sensitive to the cold. I'm worried about her and the baby." B'Elanna sends Tom a thankful look when the lead man nods his head and grunts. The phasers lower slightly when Tom pulls B'Elanna into his arms. He stands flush to her back but ready to spin them again if they decide to fire. 

"Baby." The leader says the word like there is something in his mouth to speak around. "Is that what you call your Future Ones?" Apparently, the universal translator isn't as fluent in Delta Quadrant languages as they all like to believe it is. Tom isn't sure how to answer because he doesn't know what a Future One is exactly. 

"A baby is a younger version of us. They grow up to become like us one day." B'Elanna, ever the quick-thinker, answers for them. That satisfies the leader. 

"You are its Carrier as well?" B'Elanna nods after some hesitation. "I am her _Mother_. But I guess, they are one and the same." The leader gestures for his troops to stand down. Tom finally feels the tension in the top of his shoulders ease some. The leader steps up to them and addresses B'Elanna. 

"I am Leader One Uviilok. We will not harm a Carrier, Mother and Treasured One. You and your..." he hesitates when he makes eye contact with Tom. "Heated One are safe," he concludes warily. Tom pulls B'Elanna a little closer. He'll be the best damned Heated One there ever was. 

"Why do you need us here?" He asks. 

"We are in need of repair." 

"You don't have an engin—a Treasured One?" It strikes him as odd to be without an engineer this far from any planet. 

"Our Treasured One was killed in the same battle that leaves us wounded. We have heard of the Greatship _Voyager_ and her many battles. You," he addresses B'Elanna again, "must be a coveted Treasured One." She leans a little into Tom's arms, likely uncomfortable with the compliment and maybe happy she's found someone to treasure her beyond her engineering abilities. He steals a quick kiss to the top of her head. If their Leader One lets him hold her now, surely a kiss isn't any trouble. 

"The really good battles are aided by myself." 

"In what capacity? We would like to address you by your proper title." 

"Pilot." 

"You are the Greatship _Voyager_'s Demon One?" B'Elanna stifles a laugh by letting out a gust of air. The leader seems less than impressed, perhaps even disgusted. "Yet, you are also allowed so near this Mother?" Tom's regretting his decision to brag. 

"Why is that surprising?" He really shouldn't be playing twenty questions with an alien species when he doesn't know the proper customs to follow. But, his ego is bruised. 

"Our Demon Ones are not permitted access to our Carriers for fear they will be a detriment to the Future Ones. We don't currently have any Carriers on board for our ship is too small to keep the groups appropriately separate." B'Elanna's hand flutters to her stomach without warning. Tom steps back with her at the same time Uviilok steps forward. "Are you hurt Mother?" That's a little unsettling for Tom. She holds up a hand. 

"No, no. It's nothing." She offers a weak smile. Tom knows the contractions are worse for her when she stands. Seeing an opportunity, Tom carefully words his request knowing that among these people, his position makes him a second-rate citizen. 

"Perhaps we can see your Healer to ensure she's alright? I'd be...harmed if anything hurt her." The way he says it is supposed to come off as a disciplinary action, but he would probably berate himself if anything happened. 

"Yes," Uviilok steps aside and gestures behind him. His troops step to either side and the three of them leave the alien transporter room. With Uviilok ahead of them, Tom leans down to whisper to B'Elanna. 

"What's the plan?" 

"Me?" 

"On this ship, you're the senior officer." 

"Right. I say we do what he wants us to do." She silences when a trio of aliens passes by watching them. "He brought us here, he can send us back. I believe it when he said we wouldn't be harmed. Do you?" He waits to answer until a lone alien buried in a PADD look-a-like passes out of earshot. 

"Mostly. He doesn't seem to like us being so close to each other. I'm worried I'll offend them somehow and get killed." 

"Don't get killed." She orders. He half wants to retort with a 'yes, ma'am', but getting her angry when they are hostages isn't a good idea. At least, not until they have a good way to use that anger. 

"I'm not planning to. I just think it's a possibility." 

"Do some research. Find out what you can and can't do. Same for me for that matter. I suspect I'll be very busy. Do you hear that low buzz? It means they're running on overtaxed circuitry. If we don't want them to yank us back as soon as we're done, I'll need to do replacements." She finishes giving him his orders when they enter a brightly lit room. A waft of anesthesia and bleach rises to meet his nose. It looks and smells like a sick bay alright. Tom helps B'Elanna onto what looks like a diagnostic bed. She lays back. He looks at the tools nearby and recognizing what is probably a tricorder he reaches to grab it. A scaly hand covers his when he touches the tricorder. It's Uviilok's. 

"Please, desist." Tom doesn't like his tone. He's definitely going to get himself killed. 

"I am an apprentice Healer as well as Demon One." He decides on the antiquated wording because their natural speech seems to favor it when he answers in a carefully measured tone. Uviilok's eyes widen in surprise, but he releases Tom's hand. 

"You are Dually chosen?" Chosen seems like an odd word to describe his job. 

"Yes." He begins scanning B'Elanna's stomach, noting that most of her readings are well within normal. Only her adrenaline response is elevated. 

"Never have I heard of a Dually chosen Demon One. And for Healer no less." By his count he's Triply chosen: Heated One, Demon One, and Healer. It strikes him now how the position of Heated One implies this species doesn't believe in monogamous relationships. He wasn't recognized as B'Elanna's Mated One or Chosen One. It seemed like they hadn't the notion. Chakotay's knack for understanding cultures is rubbing off on him. "I apologize for my ignorance." Uviilok bows lightly. Tom stores the gesture and phrase away for later. "We underestimated the Greatship _Voyager_. If this apprentice Healer and Demon One is civil enough to be permitted such access to this Mother, you must be a mighty crew indeed." 

"I wouldn't say he's civil. But he is..." there's a mischievous tone in her voice, "entertaining to have around." Their eyes catch. How she can be in a mood now of all times, he hasn't a clue. He turns to the neglected medic he presumes. She'd been standing at the side of the bed monitoring his actions. 

"I need something to lower her adrenal response. Do you have that?" He doesn't know the names of any medicines here and doesn't want to put his wife and unborn child in the hands of the universal translator. The medic walks to the glowing cabinet in the center of the room, requests a hypospray, and returns to press it into B'Elanna's neck. She jumps at the sudden touch. 

"Leader One, I suggest she rest here for the next hour." She looks at Tom. "Perhaps this one is more talented than he says and can repair a few things while she recovers?" Tom doesn't think he'll be much good anywhere but sickbay or the helm but he isn't about to refuse to let B'Elanna rest. 

"Acceptable idea as always, Sviila. She will rest. I will return for her in an hour's time." He turns to Tom and hesitates in his address. Tom thinks sullenly that he could just ask for their names. "Healer, will you come with me to your living quarters?" Tom shoots a look at B'Elanna quickly before answering. They'd been planning for their arrival. 

"Quarters? Will I get to stay with B'Elanna?" He gestures to her inert form when he names her. Uviilok turns to B'Elanna. 

"Is this your wish as well, Mother?" Tom purses his lips at the blatant refusal to use her name. 

"It is. Thank you, Uviilok." He claps his hands together. 

"Then it is done. Follow me." Tom follows. 

B'Elanna takes the opportunity to lay back on the bed. It's more comfortable than the ones in Sick Bay despite the thinner mattress. She should ask about it. Giving birth on one of these will be more comfortable than one of her own Sick Bay's. 

"I can give you specifications for this bed," she'd spoken aloud. At her discomfort, Sviila continues, "if you wish, Mother." It's unsettling being called mother by an adult. B'Elanna turns to look at the medic for the first time. She's a young woman with a stature like Kes'. Her hair is the same black as her captain and pinned back in an intricate crown braid. 

"I would appreciate that." Sviila bows. 

"Of course. Is there anything else?" Well, since she has the free time.... 

"Tell me about your culture. Are there things I shouldn't do as a Mother or Treasured One? Likewise for my h—" she almost says 'husband', but thinks better of it, "—Heated One." Sviila sits down in a nearby chair to her left in the little alcove. 

"Normally, we would not let him close to you. It is different since he is Dually chosen as Healer. Very few in our society are suited for two roles. As a Healer myself, I have no restrictions on interactions. As Treasured One and as Mother each, you cannot be permitted to die." She sighs. "But that is not always the way it goes." 

"What is this about being chosen?" 

"Our people are chosen at seven turns for their aptitudes. The least adjusted become Demon Ones. Mechanically adept become Treasured Ones for there are so few of them. Biologically adept become Healers or Birthers. Those who are especially talented become Carriers." Again they circle back to her dual situation as Treasured One and Mother or Carrier or whatever they want to call her. B'Elanna shifts under the frustration. Not counting the time Tom asked to be housed with her, no one's called her by name since arriving. It makes her a little hungry for Tom gasping her name. 

"Thank you," Sviila? Healer? "Sviila." The woman nods and vacates the chair. B'Elanna lets herself fall asleep. The excitement of the day really wore on her. When she wakes up, Tom is hovering beside her and she's covered with a thin, gray blanket. 

"Did you have a good nap?" She sits up carefully. Tom takes the blanket off of her since it'd be difficult to reach around her belly. 

"I did. Did you learn anything?" 

"Just that the beds are awfully comfortable," he grins mischievously. Oh yes, as soon as they're free, all he'll be able to say is her name. She licks her lips. 

"Is that so?" She slides off the bed with Tom's help. She gladly takes his warmth. He hugs her close. 

"It is." He releases her and she laments at the loss of heat. "I brought you a present." He turns around and stoops to pick something up from the chair. "Warmer clothes," he says as he presents them to her. She happily takes the brown sweater and slips it over her nightgown. The sleeves are a bit long, but already she feels warmer. She puts on the sweatpants Tom offers, glad that the waistband is the kind with a tie instead of an elastic. The elastic kind digs into her stomach and makes her nauseous. When she's dressed, she realizes she must be a sight. Blue nightgown peeking out over grey sweatpants all under an oversize, brown sweater. "You were wrong about the old circuitry. I asked about it while you slept. They showed me their engine room." B'Elanna looks up at him with surprise. 

"You only told me about the bed." 

"That's because it's more fun." She can't argue there. 

"Explain while we walk?" 

"Of course." They link arms. "Their hearing isn't very good." He gestures to his ears. "Long, fleshy parts make for poor acoustics. The wiring is supposed to make a lot of noise to let them locate issues better." Tom continues telling her about his adventures. It isn't until the third turn that she begins to suspect they aren't going to the engine room. She quiets a surge of disappointment. She wants to see it. 

"We're not heading to the engines are we?" 

"No," Tom looks chagrined. "I convinced Uviilok that you needed until tomorrow afternoon to become acquainted with their systems." She huffs. 

"It won't take me that long." 

"I know." They stop in front of a door. Tom presses his whole hand to a scanner. "We'll have to set it up for you as well," he comments offhandedly. B'Elanna nods as she watches the door push outwards and slide to the right before coming to a stop. She leads them inside. Tom presses another touchpad with a two-fingered squeeze gesture and the door shuts. He slides his fingers up on the same pad inside and the lights rise to a comfortably dim level. Suddenly, she's in his arms. He smiles knowingly. "I figured, we could stay up a little late tonight." His lips press against her neck. She likes where this is heading. 

"Shh, no more talking unless you're saying my name." He nods to convey his agreement. 

"B'Elanna," his breathy voice gives rise to butterflies in her stomach as he kisses along her jaw to her lips. They latch on and he walks her backwards to this supposedly comfortable bed. He breaks away to remove her nightgown and sweater in one tug. B'Elanna frowns. She was warm. He gestures for her to get on the bed. When she lays back he strips out of his blue cotton pants, boxers, and white T-shirt. Then he climbs over her, all heat and sinew. She sighs. That earns her a gentle bite on her collarbone. Tom backs away enough to raise his hand to his lips in a 'be quiet' gesture. She gets his meaning. Her rule flows both ways. 

"Tom." She wraps her hands around his neck to draw him in. Their lips crash. His mold to hers and hers to his. The sensation intoxicates her. She feels him untie her sweatpants. They break away for him to pull them and her panties off with her help. She hears the familiar sound of clothing falling to the floor. If it wasn't so cold, she'd be able to think they're back in their quarters. Tom returns to kiss up her legs one at at time. B'Elanna holds her breath, but he moves up to her stomach, kissing it gently before taking his time with her breasts. It's almost painful to stay quiet as he suckles at her breasts. She makes up for it by moving a lot. He finally, _finally_ kisses his way back down her stomach to latch onto her clit. She isn't sure that she can stay quiet with him working her so effortlessly. She attaches her mouth to the fleshy top of her forearm. Her hips have a mind of their own. Soon, Tom has to curl his arms around her thighs to keep her still. His short hair brushes against her sensitive lower stomach, driving her wild. She never knew trying to be silent could take her up so quickly. She'll have to do this again. Maybe after Miral is born. She can't take it anymore. She releases her arm and moans Tom's name as she comes hard. He politely brings her undulating body down before lying next to her and gathering her into his arms. She turns to him and kisses him in case he'd planned to say anything. 

They kiss on their sides for a few glorious moments before he turns them over and settles between her legs. She already knows she's slick from his saliva and her own juices. The thought of meshing together sends another trickle of juices between her legs. She tugs on his arms to tell him to hurry the hell up. It's been a long day, but she's just napped, and she wants sex _now_. Tom slowly slides into her. She has to bite her lips to suppress a satisfied sigh at their union. The bump makes things awkward and she realizes with dread that it won't be long before they can't make this work. She shifts a little to ease the pressure on her cervix and relaxes into the bed. It really is comfortable. 

He starts moving in and out of her slowly. When he picks up speed, the only sounds are the wet slip of their skin and the slap of his body against hers. She grinds against him on the in thrusts. She is happy to find that the position eventually puts her at a good angle to get stimulation out of his thrusts. Of course, that makes staying quiet difficult so she returns her arm to her mouth. She can feel the wave building behind a dam. When the dam breaks, she'll be helpless to the flood. She can't wait. She grabs one of Tom's hips and urges him to move a little faster. He does and she arcs up as the dam splits down the middle. She bites down on her poor arm and tastes blood. She's faintly aware of Tom's continued thrusts, a jerky stillness, a heat inside her, and him gasping her name. He slides out of her with a wet pop and pulls her to his bare chest. She releases her arm and settles against him. A little while later, her stomach contracts painfully. 

"Oh no." 

"What is it?" He sounds more alarmed than he needs to be. 

"I don't have my hot water bottle." He frowns. 

"So I take it sex doesn't help?" She tilts up to kiss him through a mild contraction and consoles herself with the decision to ground Miral for a month, minimum. 

"No, but it's worth it." B'Elanna sleepily burrows into his heat further and is happy to feel him wrestle the blanket over them. The troubles of today and the fears of tomorrow are forgotten in this moment. She drifts asleep in the arms of Tom, her treasured Heated One.


End file.
